


Magicae Nectere

by WritingIsReality



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Magic Revealed, Merlin's Magic Revealed, Romance, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 20:48:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12943584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingIsReality/pseuds/WritingIsReality
Summary: A rogue sorcerer seeks to kill Arthur in an act of revenge against Uther for killing his own son who had magic. The attempt is made in court, but his magic is thwarted by Merlin's own. With his magic revealed, Merlin races to escape Camelot - but Prince Arthur is not yet ready to let him go. . .





	Magicae Nectere

** Magicae Nectere **

 

This is _not_ how he’d planned for it to happen.

In all honesty, he had yet to plan for it all, but if he’d had planned for it, _it certainly wouldn’t be like_ _this,_ Merlin thought, skidding around a corner and trying his damndest not to topple over.

Several servants moved past him; some looking at him quizzically and most looking at him knowingly. Everyone would have heard by now. It really was a testament to the solidarity of the servants in the castle that no one had yet turned him in and instead had turned a blind eye – they all would know by now.

Merlin turned another corner and cursed his stupidity. He didn’t regret what he’d done, he had _saved_ Arthur’s life after all – again – but he’d sentenced himself to persecution in doing so, and his life, literally hanged in the balance.

_Magic,_ he thought. _Sorcery;_ the two most treasonous words in Camelot and he’d revealed them both.

There was a sudden cacophony of noise all around him and Merlin knew that he was trapped. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but he’d do whatever was necessary to make it out the castle alive. He didn’t want to die.

Merlin heard a clattering of armour and turned his head sharply over his shoulder to see what was happening; never slowing his pace as he did so. One of the Knights was close to finding him, but he had yet to reach Merlin’s field of vision. With a burst of energy he never knew he had, Merlin sped up and swung his head back around – only to smack right into someone else who had been running as well.

_Oh god, he was done for. He was_ so _done for._

Merlin stumbled back and was prevented from crashing to the ground by the pull on his arm from the other person. He prayed it was a servant, someone who would let him go and perhaps even aid in his escape. He lifted his head to appraise his saviour and, instead, came face-to-face with his executioner.

_Who knew the death of him would have such beautiful eyes._

“Merlin!” Arthur hissed, grabbing him by his neckerchief and pulling Merlin’s body flush against his own. The Prince’s eyes were hard and his face was flushed red with rage, the brand so extreme that it trailed down his neck and beneath his tunic. Merlin swallowed thickly and tried his best to look Arthur in the eye, but he was afraid; so very afraid.

The pair stared at each other for longer than what could be considered as appropriate before the cluttering of armour down the corridor behind Merlin brought them both out of their fierce standoff. Without a word, Arthur dragged Merlin by the scruff of his neckerchief and pushed him through a wide, oak door. Merlin tripped through the threshold and had barely righted himself before he heard the door slam behind him. He looked up to see Arthur stood in front of the door, glaring at him. It was then that he realised that he was in Arthur’s private chambers. Merlin’s panic had been so profound that he hadn’t even realised where he had been running within the castle. He wanted to breathe a sigh of relief; being in Arthur’s chambers, with Arthur himself, was so familiar that his default was to relax and embrace the norm. Only, this time it wasn’t normal, and he was nowhere near being safe from his own persecution.

He turned around, quickly to face Arthur, only to find that he was already opening the door and slipping through its crack. The Prince didn’t say anything to Merlin as he glanced at him over his shoulder and closed the door behind him. He didn’t need to say anything because the expression on his face had said it all.

_Stay here, or else._

The door smacked closed and Merlin heard the slight fluttering of a key being turned in its lock. He hadn’t even seen Arthur take it out. He then heard the sound of Arthur’s footsteps pattering away and stared at the locked door in shock. He didn’t know what had just happened, but it had done nothing to abate his panic. Everyone was looking for him, chasing him, trying to _find_ him, and he was trapped right under their noses – in the epicentre of all the madness.

Scared, Merlin went to stand in the darkest corner of the room, hoping that it would be enough to hide him should someone fight their way through the lock on Arthur’s door. It was there that he stood, for how long he did not know, watching, waiting. He could peep out of one of the windows from where he stood and still remain hidden, and so this is what he did. The late afternoon sun shrivelled to dusk and then to nothing as night took over – slowly, painfully slowly. He was able to visualise the commotion he was hearing outside, and saw the lighting of torches as just about the entire imperial guard of Camelot searched for him. Merlin shivered in fright and then jumped back against the wall when he heard the opening and then closing of the chamber door – knocking the table beside him over and shattering the ornamental display that had been arranged atop it.

Instinctively, he went to clean it up, stopping short when he emerged from the shadows and saw Arthur standing on the other side of the room. Immediately, Merlin recoiled, shrouding himself in shadow once again.

“You know,” Arthur huffed in annoyance, “it’s fairly pointless retreating back to the hiding place you were using when you pursuer is stood right in front of you, watching.”

“I’m not hiding!” Merlin yelled indignantly, stepping out of the shadows and glaring at Arthur. The corner of the Prince’s lip twitched minutely, as if he were going to smile but stopped himself at the last second.

Merlin’s eyes widened at his own audacity, and he stepped back two steps whilst closing his mouth and biting his lip anxiously. “I mean – um, what I mean is that I, um – I mean –‘’

Arthur sighed in defeat and ran a hand over his tired face. “Shut up, Merlin.”

For the first time since entering into his service as manservant to Arthur, Merlin did as he was told. He shut his mouth and waited quietly, hands trembling as he fumbled with them anxiously. It didn’t escape the Prince’s notice.

Arthur sighed again and moved to the table to put down his sword and remove his gloves. He noticed Merlin take another hesitant step back when he unsheathed his sword, but he chose to ignore it. The Prince leaned against the table wearily and appraised Merlin, putting one of his hands in his britches pocket in a mannerism that was uncharacteristic for him. Merlin didn’t have time to consider this because Arthur’s voice, sharp and authoritative, spoke.

“How long have you been using sorcery?”

Merlin swallowed thickly, but looked his Prince in the eye and replied with a level of confidence which surprised Arthur. “I was born this way. I’ve had magic since I drew my first breath and it hasn’t left me since.”

Arthur’s eyebrows raised in surprise. Merlin ducked his head and mumbled, “I can’t help it Arthur, I –‘’

“You’ve never once used it to hurt me.”

Merlin’s eyes darted to make contact with Arthur’s own. “Are – are you a-asking me or t-telling me, My Lord?”

The Prince scowled at him and ran a hand through his hair in irritation; leaving it there, pulling at the roots as he contemplated what he was going to do next. He closed his eyes and Merlin’s heart sank.

“My Lord,” Merlin started, “please might I say my goodbyes before –‘’

“Since when is it, ‘My Lord?’ ” Arthur snapped, moving around the table so that he could face Merlin directly.

“I-I’m sorry,” Merlin stammered, “it’s just that, Id’ like to say goodbye to Gaius and write my mother a letter –‘’

“For the love of all that is holy Merlin, I’m not turning you in!” Arthur yelled.

“Y-you’re not? But your father –”

“ – Is the King of Camelot, yes, I am aware. I’m also aware that he put a ban on magic years ago and that many people have suffered greatly because of it.”

“So…”

“ _So,_ that means that until I know what I’m dealing with and what to do, he doesn’t have to know about your continued presence in the castle.

Merlin’s jaw dropped open in shock. “You’d leave me here then? Lost, floating, and speculating my future until it pleases you to come to a decision about my fate?”

“Merlin,” Arthur hissed, striding to him with two large steps and backing him up against the wall completely. “Get it through your head; you are not going to die! I’m not turning you in! Why would I go to all the trouble of hiding you if I was just going to expose you after the fact?” Arthur inhaled shakily. “Tomorrow morning, I can’t let that be you. I can’t…” The Prince dropped his gaze and he didn’t just look distressed, he looked ashamed.

“What’s happening tomorrow morning?” Merlin inquired. When he received no answer he asked again, adding fire to the voice that he had been too scared to use since he was thrust into the Prince’s private chambers and this entire debacle had begun. “Arthur, what’s happening tomorrow morning?”

Arthur sighed and closed his eyes, waiting a beat before opening them and securing their gaze with Merlin’s own. “The witch,” he murmured, “the witch burns at dawn.”

Merlin’s eyes widened in horror, “Arthur, no! You can’t!”

“It’s not my decision, Merlin!” Arthur yelled, “It’s the King’s and the King’s alone.”

That one statement, Merlin knew, was an argument all on its own; one that neither he nor Arthur had the power to change. Surprisingly, Merlin didn’t find himself drenched with fear. He felt an overwhelming sense of remorse and sadness for the witch who caused this all, they were brethren after all, but more than that, he felt safe, he knew that Arthur would never hurt him. Merlin knew that the only thing Arthur would try do was protect him.

“I trust you,” Merlin whispered, leaning so close into the Prince’s space that his breath ghosted his face.

Arthur appeared to contemplate Merlin’s words until he next spoke. “I trust you too, Merlin.” The other smiled in relief, and Arthur felt his cheeks blaze with the sheer beauty of it. “I trust that you would never hurt me.”

“Of course I would never hurt you.”

“I _do_ trust you, Merlin, but not with your sorcery coupled with your pseudo-heroic stupidity.” And with that, Arthur snatched Merlin’s wrist from where it lay, limply at his side and cuffed it with a gold band that he’d had hidden in his britches pocket.

The effect was instantaneous. Merlin dropped to his knees, his breath fleeing his body with every piece of strength he’d ever had. He was dizzy, light-headed and nauseous. He felt as if the world had tilted, and was so far away that it was completely out his reach but, more than that, he felt empty, so empty that he feared he might implode in on himself. The emptiness pained him to the point where he thought he might be sick. He clutched at his wrist where the band burned like a brand and tried to control his devastation at the feeling of his soul being ripped in two and the emptiness that ensued.

“W-what is this?” He stuttered helplessly, trying to remove the band from his wrist. “Arthur,” Merlin panicked, “what is this!” He looked up at Arthur desperately and did nothing to conceal the pain and fear in his eyes. His breathing became heavy and laboured, and Merlin forced himself to calm down when he realised that he was starting to hyperventilate.

“Arthur!” He cried, desperately.

“It’s a magic binding band,” The Prince stated. “My father had it forged by a powerful sorcerer before the purge, in case – in case we would ever need its protection again.”

Merlin stared at Arthur incredulously from where he sat, knelt on the floor before him. His eyes begged for mercy, beseechingly and desperately trying to make Arthur understand what he was doing, what he was inflicting upon his manservant. The pain, the emptiness…

“Why?” Merlin whispered. “You said you trusted me!”

“I thought that I knew you, Merlin.”

“You do!”

“No,” Arthur snapped, “clearly, I don’t.”

“Arthur,” Merlin begged, unshed tears swimming in his eyes as he tried to ward off the pain of the emptiness which seemed to be replacing his very soul.

“You would have put yourself in danger and used your magic to try and free that witch tomorrow.”

“No. No, I –‘’

“Don’t deny it, Merlin! We both know you would have.”

His manservant’s resulting silence was answer enough.

Arthur continued. “You would have used your magic to escape the castle and flee Camelot.”

“Is that not the point?” Merlin yelled. “To stay and be killed, or to flee and _live_?”

“I can’t let you go, Merlin.”

“Why not? If you’re not going to turn me in and if you’re not going to run me through with your own hand then why am I still here? Why have you put this… this… this _thing_ on me!”

I need time,” Arthur said, “to figure out what to do; and to do that I need you to remain here and remain hidden.”

Merlin stared at Arthur in disbelief, a stray tear crawling down his distressed face.

“My door, locked as it may be, cannot hold a sorcerer, but it can hold a man,” Arthur looked at Merlin purposefully. “The band allows me to ensure that. It’s bound your magic within it. You cannot access or use your power whilst you wear it.”

“Arthur –‘’

“I have to go,” the Prince said, turning back to the table. “I’m leading the night guards surrounding the perimeter in their search for the rogue sorcerer,” he looked at Merlin meaningfully. “They’ll be wondering where I am.”

“Arthur –‘’

“I’m locking this door from the outside, and no one but I will be able to enter. You needn’t worry about intruders; there’s no reason why you should be made unnecessarily uncomfortable whilst you are hidden.”

Arthur sheathed his sword and put on his gloves, walking to the door purposefully so that he could get garbed in the armoury.

“Arthur!” Merlin yelled, but the Prince ignored him. He reached the door and opened it a crack, slipping through the small opening once again. Arthur sighed heavily and looked over his shoulder to where his manservant was knelt on the floor.

“I _am_ sorry, Merlin.”

He closed the door with a soft bang and locked it behind him.

 

*#*#*#

 

When Arthur finally managed to return to his private chambers, the harsh morning sun had already begun to glare down on him, heating his armour uncomfortably. He’d spent the entire night with his patrol, arranging a search party and scouring the perimeter of the castle for what he never hoped to find and, thanks to divine intervention, never would – not in the boundary at least.

Uther was furious, and it was with a heavy heart and a forced resignation that he called off the search. The sorcerer would be long gone if they hadn’t already found him during the night. The most Uther could do now was tighten both his personal guard and the boundary patrols, sending out scouts intermittently to search for the rogue sorcerer.

Arthur had returned with his patrol at the break of dawn, only to face his father’s wrath and be ushered into the courtyard for the public burning of the witch. He’d forgotten all about it, and his stomach dropped when he realised what he was going to be forced to bear witness to.

The reality of the spectacle was far worse than he ever could have imagined. Her death was brutal. The witch had burned at first light in a manner so barbaric that it nearly made Arthur sick. The Prince couldn’t quite bring himself to _hate_ his father, but he knew, with no degree of uncertainty, that he didn’t love him either; of that much he was sure.

And so it was, that Arthur eventually managed to retreat to his chambers; tired, weary and feeling so, _so_ guilty.

Squaring his shoulders in exhausted determination, Arthur unlocked the door to his chambers and walked in – trying his best to look regal and purposeful, but only succeeding in highlighting his undeniable fatigue. The Prince panicked as soon as he looked around the room.

Merlin was nowhere to be found.

_“Merlin!”_ Arthur hissed viciously, trying to control his volume, lest they be found out, but also trying to control his rising hysteria. The Prince cursed his name and hurriedly searched the room, checking behind the changing screen and his many curtains. He was half a second away from ripping his hair out in frustration when his eye caught sight of his bed and he looked at it contemplatively. The number of times he’d hidden under there as a child…

Arthur walked to the side of his bed and knelt on the floor, ducking so that he could see beneath it. He sighed in both relief and irritation when he found Merlin lying there. The Prince was about to make a snide remark, throw a barely veiled insult at Merlin or just yell at him completely, but he stopped at what he saw, after he conscientiously schooled himself to _look._

Beneath the bed, Merlin lay ramrod straight, his arms resting at his sides and his face staring resolutely up at the underside of the bed. He didn’t turn his head to acknowledge Arthur, but the Prince could see that he was distressed – the tear tracks drying against his pale cheeks a testament to this.

“Come out, Merlin.”

When he received no reply, Arthur tried again. “Please, Merlin, come out.” He felt his temper flare as he was studiously ignored. “Merlin! Please will you just –‘’

“No.”

Arthur gritted his teeth in frustration and resorted to using his status to get what he wanted. It made him a prat, he knew, but it was a means to an end and that’s really all Arthur needed for this day – for it to end.

“Merlin, I command you to –‘’

“I’m not your manservant anymore Arthur, you can’t tell me what to do!”

Without thinking, Arthur dove under the bed and settled himself right next to where Merlin lay. It hurt him more than he thought it would when Merlin, once again, recoiled from him and turned away in his continued petulance. All Arthur wanted to do was grab him by the scruff of his neck and pull him out from under the bed and shake him, to talk to him and make it clear that he was important, that –

“I heard her screaming,” Merlin whispered. Hesitantly, he turned to face Arthur, barely contained fear jittering in his eyes. “I heard her screaming while she burned,” Merlin swallowed thickly. “I couldn’t help her, and the entire time it happened… I couldn’t help but imagine that it was me burning in those flames, me –‘’

Arthur grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled him forward. Their faces almost smacked together, and the pair was so close to one another that their breaths became one entity.

“I would never allow it!” Arthur hissed, his eyes were full of fire and his face was sculpted with determination. Merlin’s mouth popped open in surprise, immediately drawing Arthur’s eyes to it. The Prince was about to act on his instinct, on that thing he had wanted for so long, but their close proximity forced him to notice that Merlin’s breathing was laboured. His skin was pallid and covered in a slight sheen of sweat. Arthur raised his hand to Merlin’s forehead without thought and felt a sharp tang of alarm when he found it to be hot and clammy. He looked at Merlin in fright and couldn’t stop the words as they tumbled from his mouth desperately.

“You’re sick. Why are you sick? Are you alright?”

For what felt like the longest time, Merlin didn’t reply, but then he smiled at Arthur sadly and closed his eyes.

“Of course,” he whispered, knowingly.

“Of course, what?” Arthur asked quickly.

“Of course you would use magic without knowledge of its full effects.”

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He didn’t know what Merlin meant, and he felt his heart rate speed up at the realisation that Merlin was disappointed with him. The young sorcerer looked down at the golden band encircling his wrist meaningfully and Arthur’s eyes widened in horror at the implication.

“It’s not supposed to hurt you!”

Merlin rolled his eyes with knowing resignation and then rolled out from beneath the bed, Arthur following not even a beat after him.

“Merlin,” he gasped, looking across the space of the bed and into the sorcerer’s eyes beseechingly. “It’s not supposed to hurt you. I’m sorry, I didn’t know. It was only ever meant to –‘’

“What, Arthur?” Merlin asked venomously. “It was only ever meant to do _what_ exactly?”

Arthur looked at Merlin in despair. “It was only ever meant to contain you!”

“Well, Arthur,” Merlin said, sarcastically, “you are, and not for the first time, wrong.”

There appeared to be another standoff that took place after the statement, with both men rigidly standing on either side of the bed, facing one another as if they were to fight to the death.

Arthur tried to come up with something to say; a way to explain himself which didn’t make him sound like the selfish idiot that he was. But he ended up racing to the other side of the bed in panic as Merlin stumbled forward, leaning on the mattress for support as whatever breath he appeared to have let fled him. He immediately tried to stand up, like the martyr that he was, but he ended up falling against the wall and would have ended up on the floor if Arthur hadn’t been there to catch him.

Arthur held Merlin close, listening to his breathing as it calmed whilst still bringing the sorcerer closer in the circle of his arms.

“Merlin,” he whispered. The young sorcerer raised his head and met Arthur’s eye. “I know I can’t even begin to fathom how debilitating this is for you. But you have to understand –‘’ Arthur cut himself off when he saw the change in Merlin’s expression. His face flushed red with rage and his eyes shone viciously in a manner that was outright murderous.

“You’re right, Arthur, you can’t even begin to _possibly_ imagine!”

“Merlin, I –‘’ Merlin pushed against Arthur’s chest and out of the circle of his arms. The Prince stumbled back in shock.

“Imagine!” Merlin shouted. “Imagine being thrust into the very depths of battle, where the enemy is every single person around you and, suddenly, you lose your sword arm. Just like that! How scared would that make you feel? How vulnerable? How alone? How _helpless?!_

Arthur stared at him mutely, his face twisted in pained anguish.

“You can’t ever _possibly_ imagine that,” Merlin whispered, “can you?”

Arthur sighed before he answered. “No, Merlin, I can’t.” The young sorcerer didn’t reply after that, he let the silence speak for himself.

Eventually, after what felt like eons but was probably only a few seconds, Merlin spoke. “Take this thing off of me.” He looked at Arthur pointedly and the Prince choked out his reply.

“I can’t, Merlin.”

“It’s making me sick!”

“I’m sorry, Merlin!” Arthur yelled. He lowered both his voice and his eyes when he spoke again. “I am truly sorry, Merlin. But I can’t take it off. You’re a flight risk.”

“Why are you so desperate to keep me here?!” Merlin yelled. “Let me go!”

Arthur put his head in his hands and sighed heavily. He was so weary… so very tired, and the beginnings of a headache had just begun to blossom within each of his temples. Merlin could see this. He could see that Arthur was in pain, could see that he was tired – perhaps as tired as Merlin or even more so. But Merlin was now on a quest for answers, and he was brutally unrelenting.

“I’m just your manservant.”

“No, you’re not,” Arthur ground out, head still buried in his hands.

“Fine,” Merlin huffed. “I’m just your friend.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Then what am I, Arthur?!” Merlin exploded, his arms flinging out at his sides in exasperation. “What am I to you?!” He regretted the harsh movement of flailing his arms as soon as he had done so, for a sudden bout of dizziness overtook him and his balance tilted off kilter. Thankfully, Arthur was close at hand, and he managed to grab Merlin before he accomplished his rapid descent to the floor. Without knowing exactly how, or why, Arthur’s hold on Merlin became an embrace. He held the young sorcerer delicately, but firmly, against his chest and didn’t appear to ever want to let go. Merlin didn’t fight him. For the first time since he’d saved Arthur’s life, he felt safe – which was ironic seeing as the golden band around his wrist was slowly killing him. Yet, Merlin couldn’t bring himself to hate Arthur because of it. He couldn’t tell you how he knew, especially since he was unable to access his magic, but he knew that Arthur had bound his magic because he wanted to protect Merlin, not mistreat him. This knowledge did nothing to appease Merlin’s physical ails, but it did calm him enough to turn his head into the crook of Arthur’s neck and inhale deeply. He felt Arthur shiver in response and smiled serenely.

Arthur buried a hand in Merlin’s hair and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Right now, in this moment, the only thing you are is incredibly dense.” Merlin now shivered in turn.

Contrary to Arthur’s popular belief, Merlin was, in fact, not stupid. He knew exactly what was happening. It was so tempting to pull back and return Arthur’s insult indignantly, but what happened next felt natural and flowed seamlessly into fruition. Merlin pulled his head back from where it was nestled in the crook of Arthur’s neck, and then they were kissing.

How it had taken them this long to reach this point, neither of them was sure, but it felt like a logical action conducted between two people who have moved past friendship months, if not years, before. Arthur’s hand tightened in Merlin’s hair, causing him to gasp and allowing Arthur to further take control of the situation. He smiled when he felt Marlin’s arms wrap around his neck, when he felt the warlock pull Arthur against him – an act which should have been impossible, given that there was barely any space between them as it was.

Though it ended too soon for his liking, Arthur was eventually forced to pull away. He didn’t go far, though. Arthur rested his forehead against Merlin’s and he was pleased when Merlin didn’t pull away either. Both of their eyes remained closed, but they were both breathing heavily enough for tufts of air to slide across the other’s face before mingling together. He couldn’t help himself. Arthur couldn’t resist nipping Merlin’s lower lip lovingly and then they were kissing all over again. This time, however, it was Merlin who broke away. He was breathing heavier that the exertion of the kiss would be responsible for and a fresh sheen of sweat lay upon his forehead. Arthur furrowed his brows in concern, but otherwise said nothing. He knew what the cause of Merlin’s condition was but he had no solution. He couldn’t take the band off of Merlin. He just couldn’t.

Arthur couldn’t lose him…

“Merlin?”

“Hmm?” Merlin answered serenely. His eyes were still closed but a peaceful smile graced his face.

“As much as I’d like for this to go on, it’s…”

“Been a long night?” Merlin’s smile didn’t falter, but he opened his eyes and frowned in sympathy when truly looked at Arthur and saw how tired he was. Merlin wasn’t the only one who hadn’t had a night’s sleep.

Arthur smiled at him gratefully. He didn’t know how it was possible, but Merlin always understood. He always _knew._ And of course, Merlin was the one truly suffering with the ramifications of what had happened and the sickness that the magic-binding bind brought upon. Yet, he only cared for Arthur, and the King thought he might drown in his guilt, his selfishness. Because that’s what it came down to at the end of it all. Arthur was too selfish to let Merlin go, even though he knew it was the only way.

Merlin frowned at the haunted look in Arthur’s eyes and brought his hand up to the side of Arthur’s face. The simple touch asked a simple question. _Are you okay?_

Arthur covered Merlin’s hand with his own and smiled at him gratefully. “Let’s sleep now and worry about everything else in the morning. We can address _this,”_ Arthur gestured between the two of them, “in the morning as well.”

Merlin nodded his head in earnest and Arthur knew that he understood.

Arthur moved to the other side of the bed to climb in. He was so tired, so heavy with fatigue that he sought only to remove his boots and chainmail before collapsing into the bed. He was too tired to undress. He was nearly finished removing his boots when he felt the absence of Merlin and saw him scuttling around about the fire, moving some of the furs and decorative pillows this way and that.

“Merlin,” Arthur enquired, “what _are_ you doing?”

Flustered, Merlin turned to look at him and shuffled from foot to foot. “Erm. Getting ready to go to sleep?”

“On the floor?”

“I – Well… Yes.”

Arthur scowled at him. “Don’t be ridiculous Merlin.”

“Well where am I supposed to sleep then?” Merlin asked, though he already knew the answer.

Arthur rolled his eyes and continued the task of removing his boots. When he realised that Merlin had not yet moved he huffed in annoyance. “For the love of god, Merlin! Would you please stop being a girl about this and get into the bed? I promise not to taint your virtue with prowling hands beneath the sheets.”

Arthur didn’t see Merlin’s mouth drop open in shock, but he did hear the warlock’s sputtering and didn’t need to look up from the task of removing his boots to know that Merlin’s face would be flushed, the blush creeping down his neck beneath his collar. Arthur coughed harshly and banished the thought from his mind. Merlin was so innocent, and he deserved better that Arthur’s lewd thoughts. Thankfully, the King was too tired to dwell on any thought at the moment anyway.

“Uhm,” Merlin ventured, “what about, you know, the etiquette and rank between master and servant?”

“You’re not my manservant anymore, Merlin. You said so yourself,” Arthur huffed, climbing into the bed and curling on his side. He was becoming far too tired for conversation.

Arthur closed his eyes and had to fight off the sleep that warred to claim him. He wanted to make sure that Merlin would rest too. Again, the King heard awkward shuffling and two dull thuds as Merlin took off his boots and they hit the floor. Arthur found himself battling to fight a smile when he felt the furs on the bird move slightly as Merlin grasped them awkwardly, moving to climb into the bed with anxious trepidation. Merlin situated himself awkwardly and lay on his back, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring. His tension was palpable, and radiated off of him in waves that couldn’t be ignored.

“Merlin,” Arthur sighed. The warlock flinched slightly as he startled. “Don’t look into it and _don’t_ over think it. Just got to sleep, please.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Merlin mumbled, “I’m not your manservant anymore.”

Arthur cuffed him lightly on the side of his head and the pair sniggered at what they had now developed as an inside joke.

Though Merlin’s body was rigid with tension, he felt himself slowly relax and unwind completely when Arthur’s breathing evened and became deeper with the enchantment of sleep.

It wasn’t long until sleep claimed him in its spell as well, and Merlin very quickly found himself sleeping peacefully, waiting on the promise of tomorrow.

 

*#*#*#

 

When Merlin wakes the next day, Arthur is gone. He can feel the heat of the sun from where it is hiding behind the drapes and is mildly surprised when he squints an eye open and finds a plate of food, filled with fruit, cheese and sweet meats sitting on the dining table in the middle of the room. Unfortunately, he looks at the food and frowns in disappointment. It was a sight that would, ordinarily, have his mouth watering. Now though, it only made him feel sick to his stomach.

If the magic-binding bad made him feel bad yesterday, then he was feeling absolutely god-awful today. He had a headache that felt as if a small army was beating away at his skull with a battering ram. His body was now covered in a constant sheen of light sweat and his teeth chattered occasionally, despite the fact that he felt as if he were burning in a furnace.

Merlin looked at the plate of food one last time and smacked his parched lips together. He couldn’t handle the thought of getting out of bed, let alone trying to force food down. Merlin turned over, turning his back on the food and towards the drapes that glowed red with the late morning sun. He closed his eyes and was asleep again within mere seconds.

 

*#*#*#

 

Arthur wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been expecting when he returned to his chambers that evening, but it certainly hadn’t been Merlin lying fast asleep in bed, _still._

The Prince smiled as he closed the door to his chambers, crossing his arms in front of his chest and leaning against it, admiring the form in his bed with fondness. He was soothed by the steady rise and fall of the mound that was Merlin while he breathed peacefully. Merlin’s back was to him and Arthur couldn’t see his face. He pushed himself off the chamber door and sighed exaggeratedly before speaking.

“Merlin, you lazy lout!”

The mound in front of him startled awake and Arthur couldn’t help the grin that spread on his face. Slowly, Merlin craned his head to appraise Arthur over his shoulder and the Prince’s frown dropped from his face immediately. Merlin looked like death. His face was whiter than the sheets that enveloped him and his skin was clammy with a feverish sweat. He’d been in bed the entire day yet there were dark circles beneath his eyes.

Arthur strode forward in three long steps and grabbed Merlin’s face in both of his hands, worry draining his face of its previous amusement; concern shadowing all else. His manservant blinked up at him blearily, struggling to focus. Arthur opened his mouth to ask something but Merlin beat him to it, closing his eyes in despair and falling lax within Arthur’s caring hands.

“Please, Arthur,” he begged. “Please take this off.”

Stricken Arthur looked at him, trapped with choice of keeping Merlin with him and causing him illness, or letting him go and never seeing him again.

“I can’t,” the Prince choked. “I’m sorry, Merlin, but I just can’t.”

The sorcerer’s eyes snapped open and spilled with rage. “Why not? It’s _killing_ me, Arthur!”

The Prince let go of him and fisted his hands in his hair instead. He paced about the room like a cornered animal, disturbed by what Merlin had said and confused as to what he was going to do next. He was being exceedingly selfish. He knew that, but he couldn’t lose Merlin. He just couldn’t…

“Arthur!”

“I can’t take it off, Merlin!” He bellowed, storming back to the bed. “I can’t because I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what to do.”

“What you should do is take this horrid thing off before it kills me!”

Arthur lurched forward and grabbed Merlin by the scruff of his shirt, getting right in his face and hissing venomously. “Stop, saying that.”

“Stop saying what?” Merlin challenged. “Stop saying that you’re killing me? You’ve always asked I be truthful with you, Arthur. Why should I start lying now; so that I can ease your guilty conscience?”

“You can’t talk to me –‘’

“I’m not your manservant anymore and I’ll talk to you any bloody way I want. You can threaten me with the stocks or even execution; it doesn’t matter. I’m dying anyway.”

Arthur huffed in defeat and let Merlin go, stepping back and fisting his hair once again. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Well you refuse to let me leave so I’d say it’s fairly obvious what you want to do. The real question is why you’ve not yet taken it or if you’ll ever do so.”

Wide-eyed, Arthur stared at him, shocked that Merlin had addressed the elephant in the room so blatantly. With that one statement the air around them changed. It got heavier and Arthur suddenly found it difficult to breathe. He flushed under Merlin’s gaze and had to actively work not to avert his eyes.

“I don’t like to take from unwilling parties,” Arthur snapped.

Merlin scoffed. “Arthur, we both know that isn’t true. You needn’t worry in any case. I think it was made quite obvious last night that the party in question is willing.”

In a rare show of incredulity, Arthur’s mouth dropped open and he found himself speechless. Merlin smirked and Arthur scrambled to compose himself, narrowing his eyes. 

“How do I know you’re not all talk, _Merlin?_ How do I know this isn’t just a ploy for me to remove the band so that you can make your escape?”

Merlin flinched with hurt but then he also narrowed his eyes in response. “Why don’t you take the band off and find out?”

“No.”

“Why not!” Merlin yelled. His face crumbled and he suddenly looked defeated, as if he might cry himself into oblivion and never recover from it. “Do you have any idea what this is doing to me?” Broken, he put his head in his hands and breathed deeply, determined not to shed even a single tear in Arthur’s presence.

Though Merlin didn’t see it, the Prince’s features softened and he sat on the bed next to him. Arthur reached toward him and enveloped him in his arms, holding him as a means of comfort, surprised when Merlin let him; even going as far as succumbing to the embrace willingly. They stayed like that for a long while, long enough that Merlin managed to compose himself and for Arthur to think things through.

“If you don’t take this off me, I’ll die.”

Arthur flinched in response to the statement, and when he next spoke it was with a cracked voice choked with emotion as he expressed his deepest fear. “If I take it off you, you’ll leave and never come back.”

Merlin pulled back quickly and looked at the Prince with furrowed brows. “ _That’s_ what you think? Arthur, of course I’ll come back. I will. Once you’re King, I will!”

A loaded silence followed his profession and Merlin could see that his words were being met with doubt and resistance. Merlin grabbed the Prince on either side of his face and forced him to look the sorcerer in the eye. “It’s not like I _want_ to leave you, Arthur. The very thought hurts me more than this band ever could. But I can’t live in Camelot whilst your father rules. I’ll only be safe when the ban on magic is lifted. Don’t you see? I’ll only be safe when _you’re_ King.”

Arthur lowered his head in defeat and his forehead met Merlin’s own. His eyes were closed and he exhaled heavily. Merlin moved to hold his hands and Arthur lifted his head, leaning forward and capturing Merlin in a kiss. The warlock smiled in response and returned the gesture with fervour, relishing Arthur’s hold on him and feeling protected despite the situation that they found themselves in.

As the kiss continued, it deepened. Soon both Merlin and Arthur found their arms wound tight around one another, pressing so close that it should have been painful yet it still wasn’t enough.

Merlin could sense Arthur’s hesitation. He’d served the Prince for too long not to be able to pick up on his mannerisms. Arthur was desperate for him. He wanted this as badly as Merlin did, but he was afraid. In an uncharacteristic show of dominance, Merlin wound his hand to rest on the front of Arthur’s chest, sliding it down slowly, undoing each of the tunic’s buttons as it made its descent. Arthur stuttered and inhaled, sharply. He was unaccustomed to Merlin’s forwardness; but he was grateful for it as well. Taking the gesture as permission, he began to work at Merlin’s clothes, wincing inwardly when he felt how damp they were because of the sorcerer’s fever. He felt so guilty in that moment that he made to stop, to withdraw into his shame; but Merlin was not to be deterred. Without skipping a beat, or seeming to mind his state of undress, the warlock continued to work at Arthur’s clothes, stripping him to the point where nothing, not even his garments’ finery, could distinguish them as being on separate sides of the echelon.

Soon, Arthur’s skin was as damp as Merlin’s; his eyes equally as hazy and his thoughts similarly as clouded. The pleasure they claimed together was inimitable, barely audible over their gasping breaths and shameless exultations.

As the moment built, Merlin could feel his magic thrumming in him, desperate to climb out of his body and make itself known; but the magic binding band prevented it, and all that power pooled in his irises. His eyes shone the most royal and regal gold that Arthur could comprehend. The Prince stopped all his ministrations to stare into those eyes with awe. Merlin realised what was happening the moment Arthur hesitated, the moment he stared at him in a way he had never looked at Merlin before. Immediately, the warlock squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away, stricken at what had just happened. He felt both of Arthur’s hands move to either side of his head as the Prince pulled him up and forward.

“Show me,” he whispered, almost sounding as if he were desperate.

Merlin kept his eyes shut and tried to escape Arthur’s hold; but the Prince was strong, and his hold remained true.

“Merlin,” he whispered, reverent this time, “Open them.” When Merlin made no move to do as he was bid, Arthur leaned forward and spoke a word that Merlin had never heard him say before. “Please.”

The warlock’s eyes snapped open in shock and Arthur’s own eyes widened when he beheld the glory that was the molten gold of Merlin’s eyes.

“Arthur?” He asked, tentatively, insecure and utterly filled with fear. The Prince did not acknowledge him, yet he didn’t back away from him either. He simply, stared. Merlin squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze and Arthur was snapped out of his reverie. His own sea-blue eyes cleared, but quickly clouded again when he lurched forward and rammed his lips back to Merlin’s own. Their prior passion rekindled, though it quickly ignited and grew stronger than either man thought possible. In mere moments, the passionate fire that they had drawn was uncontainable, raging into a great release which had both men stuttering and drawing even closer together.

After, and once their breathing had settled, Arthur wound his body around Merlin’s own and held him close. He laid his forehead against the back of the warlock’s head, nuzzling the hairs on the nape of his neck and kissing them every so often, causing Merlin to shiver and for gooseflesh to rise on his skin. As time wore on, the warlock fatigued; and though Arthur still stroked him, touched him and kissed him gently, he began drift into sleep – his sickness getting the better of him. Right before he succumbed, right before his consciousness was shrouded in darkness; he made one last, desperate plea.

“You can’t keep me here forever, Arthur,” he whispered. “You have to let me go.”

His breathing evened out and Arthur froze, distraught at Merlin’s proclamation but knowing it to be true.

For the rest of the night the Prince stayed in that position, caressing Merlin lovingly and never once drawing his eyes away from his beautiful face. Though he knew what he had to do, Arthur delayed until the very last moment. He waited until the sun began to rise, until his chambers began to lighten with the coming of a new day and with the chirping of birds outside his window announcing it to be so. Sadly, Arthur looked at Merlin one last time. He looked at how the other man was comfortably wrapped up in his sheets and considered how desperately he wished to see the image every morning for the rest of his life. The warlock looked so peaceful. He looked regal and he looked like he _belonged_ there.

_‘Soon,’_ Arthur thought, determination residing over all else.

The Prince leaned forward and planted a passionate, loving kiss on Merlin’s cheekbone, lightened at the small smile that Merlin gave in response. With one last look, he reached up to where the other man had his arms nestled at his side and unclasped the magic binding band. Merlin drew in a deep breath instantaneously, and the colour immediately began to paint itself back into his cheeks.

Quietly, morbidly, Arthur got up and dressed; not ready to say his goodbyes to Merlin in person, but ready to face the new day. He opened his chamber door, and with one last, parting glance, he appraised the warlock fast asleep in his bed. The Prince’s heart swelled with the sheer force of his love. He walked through the door and closed it softly behind him.

He knew that when he returned to his chambers that evening, Merlin would no longer be there; the band left behind in his bed would be the only marker that he had ever been there at all. Though the knowledge hurt him, it did not cripple him. He knew Merlin to be a man of his word and he knew his heart to be true. Merlin would return once Arthur was King.

Of this he was certain.


End file.
